


Why Are Maps So Expensive, Anyway?

by writingandchocolatemilk



Series: UsUk Oneshots [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Revolutionary War, Alternate Universe - War, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-16
Updated: 2015-01-16
Packaged: 2018-03-07 20:28:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3182066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingandchocolatemilk/pseuds/writingandchocolatemilk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amelia wished it was raining. The sun was shining, and the wind blew dust into her eyes, and the blood looked darker against the pale white of the dirt. Nearby, the women were still dragging their screaming children away from the town, and Ivan was looking at her.</p><p>A gun felt good in her hands. Awkward, heavy, but good. It was still pointing at the spot that had been between Arthur’s eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Are Maps So Expensive, Anyway?

**Author's Note:**

> For [totallyhetaliafanfiction](http://tmblr.co/mjT8B_OQr7nGHm7_I7Qq91A), who requested Fem!America x England.

Amelia wished it was raining. The sun was shining, and the wind blew dust into her eyes, and the blood looked darker against the pale white of the dirt. Nearby, the women were still dragging their screaming children away from the town, and Ivan was looking at her.

A gun felt good in her hands. Awkward, heavy, but good. It was still pointing at the spot that had been between Arthur’s eyes.

He had been her world. He had humored her, argued with her, followed her about the house and, admittedly, annoyed her. But he had seen the world, been to India and Africa and distance places on maps Amelia’s father couldn’t afford.

And a colonel, her father praised.

The town was a mess. Before all of—she still couldn’t look at the body, just the blood—this, it had been beautiful. Amelia’s family, the reputable ones, too, hadn’t been involved with the weapons. Sure, turned a blind eye to it, but had they assisted?

_Go to bed, Amelia._

_We’re talking, Amelia, be a good girl and go get something for our guests._

_Honey, it’s not interesting, anyways._

Amelia’s eyebrows furrowed, and she finally allowed her eyes to flick to Arthur’s body. He had fallen backwards. If there wasn’t a bullet in his head, he probably would have complained of the dirt on his pristine uniform. She used to get a thrill when he walked through the door, a military man.

_Your town is practically crawling with rebels._

Seemed like it, now. Amelia lowered the gun, shaking her head. The British were in their orderly lines, but the rebels—Americans were hiding, tossing ammo as they ran between the burning buildings. Most of the women had escaped into the nearby fields.

Ivan shifted, and Amelia looked at him.

Arthur had met him, once. He had held her around the waist, but she hated when he did that around company. Ivan had been discussing something with her father, but he seemed amused by the British colonel. They had discussed things—taxes Amelia had heard about, distantly—Arthur’s arm tightening around her.

“Are you going to fight?”

Ivan looked from Arthur to her.

Amelia felt her throat tighten, but her words were savage. “Are you going to _fight_ or just _stand_ there?”

“Careful, little girl—“

The gun swung up once again, the blade pressed against Ivan’s throat.

“I killed him.” She had killed _him_.

What had she been thinking? She knew. Knew nothing good could come from a nation that burned down towns after they taxed everything flammable. Amelia wasn’t British. When the soldiers filtered through to meet with Arthur, she hadn’t understood their banter, the jokes.

_Tomorrow, down by that tavern—yes, the Horse Head, they’ll be a man waiting to take you to one of the forts. Yes, a British one, Amelia, please don’t be dense. Pack only things you need, and do not tell anyone._

She needed everything. Her father’s house, her room, the carriage that had been in the family for years. The boy who milked the cow, the dog that stole pies from windows, the bird that woke her up every morning as soon as the sun rose. How do you explain that to someone who was shipped over here to ensnare the colony’s loyalty?

Amelia had been given a gun.

Arthur had told her once he was usually at the back. How he knew where the back was baffled her, but he had shown up in front of her, gun held at a group of girls and Ivan approaching.

_What are you doing with that—Amelia?_

Amelia didn’t know much about guns. Ivan had taught her quickly the night before, in between ordering the townspeople from place to place, weapons to be unearthed and distributed. How to pour the gunpowder, jam the bullet down, set the charge. He had warned her about misfires, wet gunpowder.

Amelia wished it was raining.

Ivan pushed the gun away, and she let it fall. He shrugged and hefted his own gun, stepping over Arthur’s body and back towards the fray.

What was she supposed to do now? Her eyes returned to Arthur. The blood from his bullet wound was starting to thicken in the heat. His eyes were glassy and his mouth was parted. He had pointed a gun at children. He had set fire to the church.

Slowly, carefully, Amelia opened a packet of gunpowder. 


End file.
